


Calling It

by snailboat64



Category: Human Target (TV 2010)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 10:53:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snailboat64/pseuds/snailboat64
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chance forces Guerrero into an up close and personal confrontation full of snark then sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Dude!"

Chance backed away quickly, out of immediate danger. Guerrero was pissed. If it had been anyone else who'd tried snapping a set of cuffs on him, anchoring him to the old cast iron radiator in a long forgotten, disused storeroom, he would've skipped right over pissed, angry and furious straight into violent, but this was Chance. Allowances were made, however grudgingly at times. Truthfully no one else could have gotten close enough to pull the manoeuvre off, and there was probably no one stupid or suicidal enough to even try.

"Sorry." Chance winced. He did feel genuine remorse for restraining Guerrero, but the lengths he was prepared to go to were a measure of how badly he needed his friend's full, undivided attention. It was, after all, for Guerrero's own good.

The cuffs were of better than average construction, so Chance figured he had maybe a minute or two before Guerrero managed to slip free of their grip. He'd toyed with idea of slipping something into Guerrero's tea, but he didn't want to risk using anything that might mess with his judgement, although the idea of dealing with a more compliant Guerrero was looking a lot more attractive now that he was facing down that dead, grey-eyed stare.

"Don't be sorry, be smart," Guerrero said. "Unlock the cuffs and maybe…" he paused, narrowing his eyes as he peered at him over the top of his glasses, "… just maybe I'll let you get through the rest of today without you needing anything surgically removed from somewhere intimate and uncomfortable."

Chance knew he was pushing his luck with the unintentional little huff of laughter that slipped out, but he didn't quite manage to stop it. The look he got from Guerrero seemed to drop the temperature in the room by another forty degrees or so.

"Intimate and uncomfortable," Chance repeated, biting the inside of his cheek and stared at the ground by Guerrero's feet for a moment. "Funny you should say that..."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Guerrero sounded more exasperated than angry now, which probably meant that he was at least halfway to springing the cuffs open.

Chance was running out of time. He glanced at the door. It was pretty sturdy, nice and solid with two locks plus a dead bolt that should buy him a few more minutes.  _Minutes that you're wasting…_

Chance let out an explosive breath that he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. Stupidly he'd thought that the hard part would be leading Guerrero to this room and making sure he stuck around long enough to hear what he had to say, not trying to find the words themselves. Why hadn't he planned exactly what he was going to say? Usually he had no problem flying by the seat of his pants, but now it came to it, he didn't know what the hell he was doing, and time was trickling away from him.

Under normal circumstances, Guerrero didn't really have any tells, but when it came down to going toe-to-toe with Chance there was always a brief moment a split second before he struck when his eyes got this look that said: "You really want to do this? Fine. We'll do this." It was all the warning Chance had that Guerrero had dealt with the cuffs. Between one breath and the next, Chance found himself flung back against the wall, Guerrero's forearm braced across his throat.

"Still waiting for an explanation here, bro." Guerrero's irritation seemed to have dissipated somewhat now he was free from the cuffs, and his voice had taken on a flatter, more business-like tone.

Chance bit down on his lower lip, struggling to find the right words, but when he saw Guerrero's eyes dart down to track the movement he gambled on action instead. It was awkward, and Chance had to momentarily cut off his own air supply by pressing forward against Guerrero's restraining arm, but he managed to lurch forward just far enough to brush his lips briefly against Guerrero's.

 _Intimate and uncomfortable_. The words ran through Chance's head as he closed his eyes and let it thump backwards onto the wall, letting his mouth fall open so he could a draw deep shuddering breath whilst he waited for Guerrero's reaction.

Nothing.

Chance opened his eyes.

"What was that?" Guerrero sounded genuinely puzzled by his actions. He frowned slightly but left his arm where it was, holding Chance in place, pinned against the wall.

"What do you think it was?" Chance would have guessed that kissing someone and getting no response would be the most humiliating outcome, but apparently it could still get worse if the person getting kissed refused to even recognise the attempt.

"I think it was a bolt from the fucking blue, and I think you're gonna explain what the hell is going on."

"Diablo's." Chance knew it was probably too much to hope for that he would put it all together from just one word, but if anyone could make the deductive leap it was Guerrero. Besides, there was at least a fifty/fifty shot that he knew exactly what Chance was referring to and was just fucking with him.

"You've been following me," Guerrero said without a particular inflection to indicate how he felt about that. Chance swallowed a smart-assed reply, and nodded instead. He hoped that it would be enough.

When he found out about Guerrero's frequent trips to the strip club, his first instinct had been that he was working some kind of angle, possibly blackmailing a wealthy client who would rather have kept their patronage of the club a secret, but further investigation proved that Guerrero was far more interested in a particular bartender than any of the clientele. Guerrero didn't tend to take a personal interest in other people, but for some reason he just couldn't seem to stay away from the fair-haired barman who went by the unlikely name Angel.

"You can't go back there," Chance said. "To Diablo's. There's gonna be an ATF bust there either tonight or tomorrow. I can't be sure which."

Guerrero raised one cynical eyebrow. "I know."

Chance's stomach lurched. "You knew the place was under surveillance but you still kept going back there?"

"Off course I knew about the raid. A client's brother has been moonlighting there, and I was being paid to extract him before the shit hit the fan." Guerrero tilted his head to one side. "You didn't know it was business, did you? You thought I was there to get my kicks."

Chance's face felt hot, and as much as he'd like to just brazen his way through it, he knew he didn't have a chance in hell of pulling it off, not with Guerrero, and certainly not after trying to kiss him.  _Shit._

"Maybe," Chance muttered.

"You are un-fucking-believable, dude," Guerrero sighed. "You get it into your head that I'm banging some man-whore bartender-"

"Hey, we both know it's not beyond the realm of possibility!" Chance interrupted.

Guerrero raised an eyebrow at that, as if Chance had surprised him.

"Seattle," Chance said by way of explanation.

"Technically that was a three-way," Guerrero countered.

"Are you saying you didn't…?"

Guerrero stared at him for a moment. "No. Not that it's any of your business, but I'm not."

"And I'm pretty sure that was the only time you-"

"Seriously, dude? You keep track of who I'm fucking?"

Chance shrugged. "You don't exactly volunteer information about yourself, Guerrero."

"You noticed that, huh?"

"Hey, I wouldn't have even known about your kid if I hadn't have-"

"Do not bring my son into this." Guerrero's voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "That is not cool."

Chance knew he'd gone too far, and suddenly getting back to the subject of the bartender seemed much more appealing. "He's blond."

"What?"

"The bartender you're obsessed with, at the club. Angel. He's got blond hair. Blue eyes."

"Dude, first of all I'm not obsessed with him. I was being paid to get him out of there before the Feds raided the place, and against my better judgement, I agreed to do it without the use of force." Guerrero paused for a second, and seemed to remember for the first time that he still had his arm braced against Chance's throat. He let his arm drop back down to his side but didn't back away. "And second, what does the colour of his hair have to do with anything?"

"Nothing, except maybe a passing resemblance…" Chance spread his hands.

"To you?"

Chance shrugged.

Guerrero shook his head. "Okay, you're losing me here, bro."

Chance closed his eyes. "That's what I was afraid of…"

"So you figured you'd just throw yourself at me? Make me forget all about my secret gay lover until after he got picked up on drugs charges? It's the FBI that's planning to raid the place, by the way, not the ATF." Guerrero wasn't actually laughing, but Chance could hear the smirk in his voice.

"It's not fucking funny, Guerrero."

"Actually, if you thought I was screwing around with some kid just because he had a passing resemblance to you, it kinda is."

Chance's eyes few open, just in time to see an affectionate amusement in the look Guerrero was giving him. "So you admit there is a resemblance then?" he asked.

"Maybe a little," Guerrero conceded, "but seeing as I'm not actually fucking the guy, it's neither here nor there, is it?"

"I guess not." Chance could hear the disappointment in his own voice and it made him sick. He knew he'd blown it the second he'd pressed his lips against Guerrero's and felt zero response, but somehow talking about it was far, far worse.

"So, how far were you willing to go?" Guerrero asked.

"Huh?"

"To lure me away from the bartender. Were you planning a hot little bondage scene for the both of us down here with the cuffs, or were you just going to throw yourself on my dick like it was a live grenade?"

Chance sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. "Fine, it was a dumb idea, okay? Can we just forget it?"

"I'm just a little fascinated with this whole idea that I'm so desperate to fuck you that I'm using a lookalike…"

"Y'know, it's kinda musty down here," Chance said, looking around as if he was noticing their surroundings for the first time. "All this dust, it's gonna set off my allergies. I'm just gonna head back now."

"Dude, you don't have allergies, and if you wanna go, just go. You're the one who dragged me down here."

Somehow Chance knew, even before his fingers slipped inside the pocket where he'd stashed the keys, that they were gone. Guerrero's face was carefully expressionless, which in its own way was an admission of guilt.

"You gonna give me back the keys, or are you just gonna stand there and watch whist I pick the locks?" Chance sighed.

"Depends," Guerrero smirked.

"On what?"

"Whether you give up you source. Who tipped you off about the bartender?"

"Does it even matter?"

"If someone has been tailing me, then yeah. You know it does."

"It's not an issue. Don't sweat it."

Guerrero narrowed his eyes. "Don't sweat it? Well that narrows it down."

"It was just a misunderstanding…"

"Someone we both know…"

"Guerrero, forget it!"

"Who isn't smart enough to read a situation, or keep his mouth shut…"

"Seriously, it's no big deal…"

"… and you don't see him as a threat…"

Understanding dawned.

"He's harmless!" Chance insisted.

"He's a fucking liability, dude."

"Look, it's my bad, okay?" Chance said. "He had this crazy theory and I… I should have known better."

"One of these days I'm gonna kill Harry."

"But not today."

Guerrero sighed. "No, probably not today. How come the little worm found out what was going on?"

Chance laughed. "This is Harry we're talking about. It was just dumb luck."

Guerrero shook his head, but the keys still weren't forthcoming.

"So, are you going to unlock the door or not?" Chance asked.

"Seems to me that we still have a bigger issue to deal with first."

Chance huffed out a breath and rubbed at the back of his neck. "I was hoping maybe we could just skip past that…"

"Not a chance in hell, bro. You wouldn't have fallen for Harry's bullcrap if you hadn't wanted it to be true, and you certainly wouldn't have reacted this way if you weren't working your own angle."

"I'm not working an angle!"

"Yeah, right." Guerrero stepped closer, crowding Chance and keeping him pinned against the wall with nothing more than his close proximity. "You could have just given me the heads up about the raid without offering to be my substitute fuck buddy."

Chance ran his tongue nervously over his lips, and Guerrero's eyes again flicked down to follow the movement. Chance could almost taste him, and seeing as Guerrero had already sussed out what he was up to and had pretty much laughed in his face, his dignity was pretty much toast.

_No reason why I shouldn't just kiss him now. He's gonna be laughing his ass off about this anyway…_

Only Guerrero didn't laugh.


	2. Chapter 2

Guerrero stole control of the kiss, yanking Chance down to meet his lips, so fucking eager that Chance’s legs might have buckled beneath him were he not trapped with the wall against his back.

It was a setup; it had to be. Guerrero’s responses were not those of a man who’d just had this situation sprung on him; he kissed like he’d been thinking about it, planning and anticipating…

Chance managed to tear his mouth away, snatching a breath as Guerrero bit down on his shoulder and unfastened Chance’s jeans one-handed.

He groaned. “There’s no way Harry could’ve seen you at Diablo’s without your knowledge.” Chance blurted it out, knowing that once Guerrero got his hands in his pants he wouldn’t or couldn’t call him on it. “You set this up. Is there even… oh fuck…”

Chance’s words trailed off into another groan as Guerrero’s hand closed around his cock.

“Who the fuck cares?” Guerrero muttered. “It worked.”

“You didn’t need to… You only had to…”

“Had to know you wanted it. That you were willing to risk it.”

Chance nodded. It almost made sense. Well, the kind of sense that had Guerrero written all over it, which wasn’t the same as everyday logic or reason. Of course Guerrero would engineer the situation so that it was Chance who had to take the risk and put himself on the line whilst Guerrero could react from a position of strength, accepting or rejecting him once Chance was already committed to a course of action. _Bastard_.

Guerrero had his face buried in Chance’s neck, one hand working the shaft of Chance’s cock, whilst his thumb smeared the gathering pre-come over the head and tracing the ridge beneath the crown with just a hint of fingernail until Chance was all but shaking. He felt the corner of Guerrero’s mouth twitch against his neck as if he were about to smile, so Chance turned and kissed the tiny movement away as he dragged Guerrero in closer. All pretence of control was lost as they pulled at each other’s clothes; shirts and jackets were hastily shed, pants and underwear shoved down from their hips. Chance’s hand found its way down to Guerrero’s dick, and he watched, mesmerised by the sight of the flushed head sliding through his grip.

“I’m happy just to trade handjobs, but if you want more than that you better slow the fuck down.” Chance’s voice sounded a lot steadier than he felt, and he half expected Guerrero to reply with a cheap shot about his lack of staying power, so he was totally unprepared for him to slow his movements, pull back with a thoughtful look and ask: “When was the last time you spread your legs, dude? Who did you last give it up for?”

Guerrero probably knew the answer to his own question. Chance was pretty easy in his affections when it came to women, but guys were another story, particularly with the kind of trust that was required. There weren’t that many, and he hadn’t bottomed since…

_Danny Cooper_.

The spook was the only person who had risked going back for him during the shelling of Pristina. The heady mix of war and espionage, violence and secrecy, and so much death on a daily basis, brought out a wild desperation in the rare fragments of calm, and during in that time they had fucked like they knew there was no tomorrow.

“Does it matter? It’s been a while, but I think I still remember what goes where,” Chance said, trying to lighten the mood, scared of losing momentum, of melancholy thoughts of an ex-lover killing his chances of something happening in the here and now. _Fuck, with Guerrero…_

“Yeah, well that’s not always set in stone.”

Guerrero couldn’t possibly mean what that sounded like, but even the thought of it threatened to tip Chance over the edge, and he had waited too fucking long to mess this up over a hand job and some ambiguous dirty talk. Top, bottom, Chance was too worked up to care. All that mattered was that this was happening here, now, with _Guerrero_ , and it was all going to be over too soon if he didn’t do something to put the brakes on.

Chance sank to his knees like it was the most natural thing in the world, and Guerrero’s harsh breathing and mumbled cursing more than made up for the hard, unforgiving floor. His mouth was already watering at the scent of Guerrero’s body rising off his heated flesh, and for a moment Chance just rubbed his face cat-like against Guerrero’s thigh, breathing it in.

Guerrero swore, dragging his fingers through Chance’s hair before cupping one hand beneath his jaw and guiding his head to the right angle. Chance breathed deeply of his familiar scent, made musky with heat and sweat, and as he took him in his mouth the taste and smell of Guerrero bled together into an intoxicating rush. It had been a while since he’d last done this, and it took a moment to remember how to coordinate lips and tongue and teeth, but Guerrero didn’t seem to care, every movement seemed to elicit another curse, a reflexive twitch of his cock, a barely restrained thrust of his hips.

Chance liked giving head; it never felt like a submissive act to have a guy’s dick in his mouth, not when the guy receiving was the one in immediate danger of being hurt, but the power dynamic was entirely different with Guerrero. He didn’t feel in charge of the situation at all, and the weight of Guerrero’s hand resting lightly on the back of his head, his fingers gently stroking the fine hair at the nape of his neck made him feel weaker and more vulnerable than any amount of rough treatment could have. There was such unexpected tenderness there that Chance didn’t know what to do with it. Nothing had gone the way he’d planned, and even when he thought he’d had some measure of control over the situation, Guerrero had been pulling the strings.

Chance felt a small flash of resentment that he had been manipulated, taking all of the risks and doing all of the work. He needed to take back some control, find some certainty beneath their verbal sparring. He glanced up and saw that Guerrero’s eyes had drifted shut. He backed off for a moment, one hand teasing the head of the spit slicked cock whilst he discreetly sucked two fingers of the other hand into his mouth. Guerrero murmured his name as Chance took his cock back into his mouth, scratching as his neck in a way that made Chance’s toes curl with pleasure, but he never opened his eyes. Chance cupped one hand around his balls, tugging them gently to distract Guerrero from what his other hand was doing, but when his fingers, still wet with saliva, pressed between his cheeks and began circling his hole, Guerrero moaned and widened his stance to give Chance better access.

“Fuck yeah…”

Chance continued to stroke and tease, wanting to make Guerrero beg for it before he would go any further. Realising that continuing to blow him, as much as he was enjoying it, was probably counterproductive to making him beg, Chance backed off and pressed his face against Guerrero’s thigh.

Guerrero made a noise that sounded dangerously like a whimper, and Chance grinned. “You like me touching your ass?”

“Quit teasing and maybe I’ll-” He stopped short with a groan as Chance slipped a finger inside him.

“What was that?” Chance teased, finding and pressing down on Guerrero’s prostate.

“Fuck!” Guerrero’s hands grasped at Chance’s shoulders as he slowly pressed in a second finger. Despite the lack of proper lube, Guerrero pushed back against Chance’s hand, encouraging him to keep moving, rubbing against his gland, fucking him with his fingers.

“Say it, Guerrero…”

“I like it, okay? Just… fuck…”

Chance took Guerrero’s grudgingly muttered words as the victory they were, and carefully eased his fingers free. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said by way of explanation, before Guerrero had the opportunity to complain. “I stashed some lube down here and that’s gonna feel a whole lot better than spit.”

Guerrero nodded, shedding his boots and jeans whilst Chance retrieved the bottle of lube.

Chance’s heart leapt up into his throat when he turned back to see Guerrero standing there stark naked, one hand lazily stroking his cock as he waited for him.

“You stash condoms too?” Guerrero asked, and Chance held up the packet he’d retrieved along with the lube.

Guerrero raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to one side, the gesture as clear as a spoken question asking if Chance was really on board with the way things were heading. Chance realised he was staring and he was suddenly at a loss for words, but it didn’t matter. Their relationship had always been defined by the things they had done, not by the words they had spoken aloud. Chance rolled a condom onto his dick as Guerrero watched, no doubt in either of their minds now as to who was fucking whom.

Guerrero leaned forward against the wall, bracing himself with his forearms, giving Chance a smile over his shoulder that seemed to dare him to make his best move. It was a moment as hot as it was surreal to Chance, and he wasted no time slicking up his fingers and easing them back into him as he wrapped an arm around his waist and nuzzled into his neck.

Guerrero grunted as Chance’s fingers found their target again, alternating between stroking and teasing, and working to loosen the tight ring of muscle. Chance could tell this wasn’t something Guerrero did often, or had done recently, but his ragged breathing and the way his hips kept rolling back and forth, never completely still, told him Guerrero wanted this and he wanted it badly.

“You been saving your ass for me, Guerrero?” Chance breathed the words into his ear. “That why you’re so fucking tight?”

Guerrero grunted. “You wish…”

Chance chuckled and sucked on his earlobe, tugging at it with his teeth. He’d make Guerrero pay for that comment, and for the whole Machiavellian plan he’d used to make this happen. He wanted to see Guerrero completely lose his shit, to see him as a hot, whimpering, needy mess.

Chance reached for the lube again, slicking up his own cock as Guerrero grumbled about the sudden lack of attention. “Dude, c’mon! I’m ready!”

Chance grinned and put his hands on Guerrero’s shoulders, taking a second to appreciate the strength in the tense muscles before stroking along his arms to cover his hands where they were spread against the wall.

“Hand-holding? Really not necessary, Chance.”

Chance used his height advantage to press Guerrero against the wall, pinning him there whilst he started grinding against him. With Guerrero barefoot, the difference in their heights meant that Chance’s cock was more or less level with the small of Guerrero’s back, too high for Guerrero to feel any benefit. Moving whilst his own dick was pressed against the bare brick wall wasn’t impossible but it wasn’t something Guerrero was in a rush to try.

“Y’know, this wasn’t what I had planned, but I could definitely get off like this,” Chance said.

Guerrero grunted. “You are so not gonna leave me hanging…”

“That depends.”

“On what?” Guerrero tried to push back but he couldn’t find the leverage, not without risking injury to some very sensitive areas.

“How long?”

“Huh?”

“You heard me. How long?”

“It was dumb luck. Harry-”

“That’s not what I meant. How long?”

“Too long.”

“Dammit, Guerrero! How fucking long?”

Some of the tension left Guerrero’s body, but he didn’t answer right away.

“If you want this to happen… I need to know, okay?” Chance sighed, wanting to press his face against Guerrero’s neck again but knowing it would leave him open to being head-butted. “I’ve kinda made it clear that I’m invested here but… Fuck…”

“Since Katherine Walters.”

Chance hadn’t expected that, and hearing her name hit him like a physical blow. “Why?” he asked when he could breathe again.

“Because that’s when you stepped out from the Old Man’s shadow. Because you could have killed me, and I would’ve let you.”

Chance still had him pressed against the wall but his perception of their positions shifted and he felt as if Guerrero were holding him up, that he would have collapsed if he didn’t have Guererro’s smaller but stronger body to wrap himself around.

“You gonna fuck me now or not?” Guerrero asked, his voice almost gentle but still conveying a fair amount of impatience.

“Yeah,” Chance said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“’Cause if all you wanna do is sit around braiding each other’s hair and talking about our feelings…”

“Jeez! Okay, just give me a moment here.”

“Fuck, if I’d known you were such a prick tease…”

“That wasn’t your prick I was teasing, Guerrero.”

“No, but crushing my dick against this fucking wall isn’t what I had in mind.”

Chance backed away. “Shit! Sorry I-”

Guerrero grunted and carefully took a step back from the wall. “You are really hard fucking work, Chance. Y’know that? Quit apologising.”

“Shit, this condom’s had it already. Let me just-”

“Forget it. We don’t need it.”

“But-”

“I’m clean, and I know you are too. Unless you’ve had unprotected sex since you had you check up last week?”

“I haven’t had the results yet.”

“I have. You’re clean.”

Chance was about to ask why Guerrero had bothered asking about condoms in the first place but decided that he didn’t actually care. All that mattered was that they were going to do this. _Finally_ …

Guerrero didn’t quite whimper, but the noises he made when Chance sank his full length inside him were definitely needy. He arched his spine backwards, pushing his ass back to meet Chance’s thrusts and reaching back with one hand to cup the back of Chance’s neck so he could turn his head and kiss him.

It wasn’t what most people would consider making love, but it was hot and hard and perfect. Chance held nothing back, knowing that Guerrero could take it, rough edges and all, and Guerrero goaded him on, demanding _more_ and _fucking harder_. Chance thought he was already pushed to his limit, but then Guerrero started telling him all the things he was going to do to him when he got the chance. He grabbed Chance’s hand and wrapped it around his dick, giving himself something to thrust into, apparently no worse for wear for being crushed against the bare brick wall.

“Gonna make you come with nothing but my tongue in your ass… Gonna cuff you to my bed and fuck your throat raw… I’ll tie you down… fuck you so hard… want it so bad… never stop… fucking _mine_ …”

“Guerrero…” Chance whined his name and Guerrero groaned, his hips bucking wildly as he came, body clenching around that perfect pressure of Chance’s cock in his ass, rubbing all the right places. And then Chance was coming too, with one last desperate thrust that nearly lifted Guerrero off his feet.

 

* * *

 

The disused storeroom wasn’t an environment conducive to basking in the post-coital afterglow, not that Chance was even sure that Guerrero would go for that anyway, but still, the next time they did this it was going to be in a room with a bed, or at least a couch. He didn’t bother hiding the smile at the thought that there would be a next time.

The sweat from their exertions was rapidly cooling them off, and faced with a choice between standing shivering and naked or redressing, they both chose the latter, after a cursory wipe down with Guerrero’s undershirt.

“So you gonna tell me how long you wanted this?” Guerrero asked.

Chance smiled. He couldn’t remember ever seeing Guerrero this relaxed, as if he had finally unwound enough to let his guard down for more than a split second.

“’Cause I’m guessing this isn’t a recent thing,” Guerrero continued, with a look that was more than a little smug.

“Yeah, something like that,” Chance replied, knowing that the specifics weren’t as important to Guerrero as the satisfaction of knowing he was right. Chance wasn’t even sure he could pinpoint when he’d started wanting Guerrero, but Harry’s crackpot theory about the bartender at Diablo’s had definitely been the wakeup call that had pushed him into acting on his feelings. Except that it hadn’t really been Harry’s idea; it had been Guerrero pulling the strings from the start.

“Hey, Guerrero?”

“Yeah?”

“All that stuff you said… you really wanna do that?”

“Fuck yeah.”

“Good.”

Maybe basking in the afterglow was out of the question, but just wrapping their arms around each other and holding on wasn’t. It was a little soppy for Guerrero’s liking but it seemed to make Chance happy so he didn’t call him on it; and if he felt a warm rush flood his chest as Chance made a contented little sound and pulled him closer, well that was nobody’s business but his own.


End file.
